


Stage Fright

by Sun_Sparks



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:31:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sun_Sparks/pseuds/Sun_Sparks
Summary: It’s three minutes past seven on a Friday morning when Craig realises he’s undeniably fucked. He’s always been a ‘behind the scenes’ kind of guy; a picture-taker, rather than the subject, so it’s as the haze of sleep wears off he remembers that in just under six hours, he’s going to be up on the stage, in front of the whole school singing. Craig is not a singer, either, at least, not a good one.Set just before the class sings Put It Down.





	Stage Fright

It’s three minutes past seven on a Friday morning when Craig realises he’s undeniably fucked. He’s always been a ‘behind the scenes’ kind of guy; a picture-taker, rather than the subject, so it’s as the haze of sleep wears off he remembers that in just under six hours, he’s going to be up on the stage, in front of the whole school _singing._ Craig is not a singer, either, at least, not a good one.

Internally, he’s facing a battle. Does he ask to stay home ill, or does he power on through the, well, _pressure_ and support his boyfriend? The sudden clarity of everything Tweek must be feeling all the time brings a wedge of empathy his way, like a stale slice of birthday cake his mom would make him eat, lest it go to waste.

He’s already an internal kind of person, but this has done a number on the kid. If all else fails today, he can pull his hat a little lower, so nobody can see his eyes. That’s a good plan, he thinks. Proactive solutions to problems.

As he waits for the bus, he decides asking for advice is probably a better idea than hiding from the world under wool. As he steps on, he scans for someone to talk to that might provide some good guidance. He’d ask Butters, as one of the more sensitive kids in class, but Butters is sitting with Kenny and he’d rather have a one-on-one conversation.

Kyle would probably give some good advice too, but he’s bickering with Cartman who’s sitting with Heidi and in all honesty, he’d rather shit in his hands and clap than have Cartman in earshot of any of his problems.

Ultimately, he settles with talking to Stan, who he’s certain has some kind of experience with doing some kind of performing. He takes a seat next to him, dropping himself heavily.

“Hey dude.”

“Hey.”

Stan looks wistfully out of the window. Craig’s eyes are on the floor. That’s an interesting shape of gum on the seat in front, he thinks. No it’s not. He’s just trying to distract himself.

“…”

“…”

“Um,” The words he wants to say won’t move past his tongue. He closes his eyes and wonders how to go about bringing this up. “So, this assembly today…”

“Oh yeah. It’s a pretty cool song Tweek wrote.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty proud of it,” Craig says, as he fiddles with the strings on his hat. “I, erm… I-wait. Uh, remember when you were doing the anti-bullying song? Were you ever worried you’d mess it up? Because I’m kind of worried I’ll mess up. And it’s important to Tweek. And also I’m not a good singer. Or like being on stages.”

“I guess, man. But I think it’s kind of fun. Weren’t you in that video too? Didn’t you worry then?”

“Well, yeah. But lip synching is different to being on stage and it being _live_. I’m just worried I’ll be a complete embarrassment. To Tweek. And myself. And my parents. And the world.”

“But dude, it’s like, you know when someone does something embarrassing? It’s only them that remembers, even though it feels like the world knows. I mean, take my dad for example. Nobody remembers the dumb things he does, apart from me apparently. So, I guess all in all, you can’t be worse than my dad?”

“…”

“Not that I’d remember if you messed up, dude. I mean, er, I think everything is kind of crappy, but I wouldn’t remember it after a week? So…” Stan pauses. He probably should have stopped talking a while ago. “Sorry dude. I haven’t really been much help at all. I’m not good at advice. I’d always ask Chef if there was something on my mind. Cartman would probably have something useful to say on how to perform things, he lives for that shit.”

“Oh.”

They don’t really say anything for the rest of the bus journey. Stan goes back to pensively looking out of the window, and Craig goes back to looking at that ever so interesting piece of gum. It looks like a giraffe with no legs. Hell, it could look like anything to take his mind off the current problem. He hopes the next few periods might help with how troubled he’s feeling.

 

* * *

 

 

At first break, he meets Jimmy by the lockers.

“I dunno, Jimmy. How do you do it? Get up and perform?”

“You m-mean, how do I be f-f-fuu-fuu-f-funny? Everyone’s got a funny b-bone, Craig. It’s called the _humerus.”_

Jimmy gives Craig a beaming grin and Craig cracks a smile.

“Wow, what a terrific audience!”

“You never fail to make my day, Jimmy,” Craig says appreciatively, patting his friend’s shoulder.  “But I meant about stage fright. Don’t you get nervous?”

“W-well, entertainment is my life,” he begins, shifting his weight on his crutches. “It takes a lot of p-p-prac-p-pract—rehearsing.

Craig nods eagerly, awaiting the next wise thing his friend will say.

“But there’s something I have a p-problem with. I, uh,” Jimmy leans in close and looks around the corridor, checking for anyone listening in, “I keep getting erections. Especially when I’m o-on stage,”

Craig looks dejected. Another thing he has to worry about, he thinks to himself.

“But I’m s-s-sur-sure that’s something you won’t have to deal with. I think it’s just me. Keep that a secret. Cheer up, chum, you’ll do gr-grea-g-greaaa-gr—fantastic.”

 

* * *

 

 

During his last break before the assembly, everything sounds like white noise while he’s drowning in the deepening sea of nausea that’s becoming quickly overwhelming. His hat is pulled lower down on his face; it’s not a practical solution to his problem by any means, but since asking for advice didn’t work, he’s going back to his first idea – hide from the world. He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts, he doesn’t even hear his name being called and only looks up when he feels slender fingers locking with his own.

“Craig,”

He can barely release a grunt. He’s not even sure it was audible. Eyes are back to the floor.

“Craig. You’ve said less today than the new kid, and that’s really saying something. I’m- _ngh_ worried about you.”

He doesn’t say anything back. He can’t say anything back. The words get stuck in his throat and pulled back down, where they get submerged by the waves of anxiety.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it,” Tweek begins as he caresses his partner’s hand with his thumb. “Jimmy already told me you’re nervousaboutthe show. But it’s _ngh-_ okay, because we’re doing it together and we always have each other’s back. And, because, well, you’re capable of more than you think.”

Tweek pushes Craig’s hat just a little further upwards to lock eyes with his boyfriend. He gives him a small, reassuring smile. He doesn't know if he can do this - seeing his smile brightens his day more than he'd admit to any of his friends. He'd hate for Tweek to lose faith in him. This isn't how this dynamic works. He's supposed to be strong and bold, and not let his emotions get the better of him. It's been a strange week.

“I think you’re wonderful. And even if it doesn’t go as planned, I still love you and I think you’re wonderful.”

Craig returns the smile as he grips Tweek’s small hand a little tighter with his own clammy one.

“Would it help if we did a little rehearsing _ngh_ beforehand?”

Craig still can’t bring himself to speak, but he nods gratefully, and even though Tweek’s arms are adding more physical weight to his shoulders, he feels lighter than he has done the entire day.


End file.
